A/N: Need some Peach in your life? Well, here ya go, enjoy.
Chapter Nex: Peach Bomber
The inside of the Mushroom Castle was fairly warm, and just as comfortable as it ever was for all its toad-like inhabitants. Which made sense as the summer season had just started and already, the entire kingdom was abuzz with all the upcoming festivities and events that were both annual and completely new, and this time, the kingdom coordinators had even gone as far as to include events that all manner of colonies could enjoy, from the Yoshi's to the Goombas and, yes, even the Koopas, if they decided to behave themselves for once instead of being the normal thorn in the hide for the poor toad citizens.
Yet, while the kingdom was just beginning to wake up, swirling the air with the sound of its stirring citizens, there was one beloved figurehead whose day had began a couple ago.
As was normal, upon awakening, most of the days important documents were already prepared and laid out on a neat little silver plate by Princess Peach's bedside; it afforded her the luxury of perusing her schedule without having to fully get up. And this day was no different: about twenty letters lay in wait, invoices ranging from the events they were planning, how many coins would need to be allocated where, whatever nonsense those Koopas had gotten into and the damage that had been caused, etcetera, etcetera; all of it pretty rote... except for the last one.
It was the final envelope that caused her heart to skip a beat and her stomach to flutter. Because this particular envelope had been sealed with a giant red 'S'.
"No way... I—there's just no way..."
Swallowing, it took her a couple tries to pry it open while her hands shook so bad, but once she had, once she read the header, there was no controlling the excited scream that left her pink lips.
To Princess Peach, Mushroom Kingdom Ruler,
It is with great pleasure that we are glad to inform you that you have been accepted to participate in the Super Smash Bros Grand Tour—
And that was about as far as she got before she fell out on the bed, legs and feet kicking childishly, crushing the letter to her chest.
"I'M IN!" she gushed, rolling from side to side in her covers. "I can't believe it, I'm in! I'm in, I'm in, I'm—"
"—wrapped up like a burrito with extra princess on the side, is what it looks like," came a very familiar, slightly amused tone, and Peach froze mid-roll to see Toadsworth, her personal steward, standing near the side of her bed, his head just barely cresting her mattress due to his short stature but still managing to eye her with a very cheeky smirk. "And what's got you in such high spirits, my dear Princess? Mario finally decide to climb down your pipe instead of those green ones?"
Bound as she was, Peach couldn't very well strike the perverted toad over the head as was also custom of her morning ritual, so she had to settle for sticking her tongue out.
Toadsworth chuckled, reaching up to clutch a corner of the Princess's sheets. "Still no? What a pity, just letting such a ripe peach waste away," and without a word of warning, he yanked on the covers so forcefully that it sent the Princess into a blurred spin. "You're welcome," he said after she had bounced to a halt on the bed.
"F-funny," Peach got out, both eyes swirling before she blinked and shook her head, "I don't recall asking for your help..."
"I wouldn't be a steward worth my toad if you had to ask, now would I?" Toadsworth replied amicably, and the Princess pouted, still clutching her special letter close. "Now, what's got your panties wet this morning, Princess?"
"If you must know," she began with a royal huff, swinging her legs around to sit on the edge of her bed, "I've been selected to participate in the Smash Tournament! I just got the letter this morning!"
"Do tell," Toadsworth remarked, his eyebrows lifting somewhat, and he extended a hand, curling his fingers twice. "Let me see, Princess."
As first, Peach was hesitant and didn't move. This letter she held to her beating chest, it was everything she had been hoping to obtain since her hero, Mario, and his stringbean brother, Luigi, had received theirs months ago, mere days apart. The tournament wasn't actually slated to begin for another year, but the letters were going out now to worlds all over the universe, a grand gathering of talent and prestige from far and wide, all coming together for an epic showdown that would go down in the history books.
Of course Mario had been selected, and she let slip a dreamy sigh just thinking about it. There was no doubt that he would be invited, because in her mind, there was no greater privilege than having a hero of his caliber, who risked his life to save her from that reprehensible Bowser, fight in a tournament featuring the best of the very best. It only made sense!
And now, to think that she had made it as well! The reality of the situation was enough to cause her breathing to hitch in tune with the reddened hue in her cheeks... and then her eyes fell into a half-lidded stare of lust and her tongue started to lull from between those luscious lips, a direct reaction to the pleasure igniting between her legs, that was causing her to gasp and lose her current train of thought.
"W-what...?"
It took her a couple blinks to realize that Toadworths little arm had disappeared between her milky thighs and underneath her pink nightgown, those fingers of his expertly swirling around the outside of her panties, flicking here and stroking there with practiced rhythm, drawing mixed groans of pleasure from the princess, who immediately snapped her legs closed, struggling to fight through her haze and fix the perverted toadstool with an annoyed leer.
"Toadsworth, y-you—nnnfh... st-stop that, I c-can't—AH!"
"The little man in the boat clearly doesn't want me to stop," Toadsworth replied regally, further extending the hand not caught between the warmth of her thighs, "but if you would like me to, the letter, please."
The Princess's thighs were beginning to tremble the more pressure Toadsworth applied, and the more pressure he applied, the redder her cheeks became until she was outright panting, no longer trying to trap his arm now but giving into the sensations causing her back to arch and her eyes to roll—
"Defiant this morning, I see," Toadsworth noticed, indicating to the way Peach continued to hold the envelope out of his reach even as those mischievous fingers of his began to caress a certain wetness from between her thighs. It only served to outline her womanhood and he traced what he felt, alternating between gentle rubs and rough strokes, bringing her up... then back down... then back up again, watching as her chest bounced with each jolt.
"St-stop, please—I'm gonna... y-you're gonna make me..." It was hard to make out the Princess's words through the manicured hand she had clamped to her mouth in a futile effort at hiding her aroused moans, but Toadsworth caught the sentiment; he could feel every tremble that shook her voluptuous figure, he saw those pert nipples pressed against the sheer fabric of her gown, the wetness was increasing, all signs that she was quickly reaching her limit.
"If you don't want me to stop, you'll hand me the letter," Toadsworth told her, and now he could catch strong hints of her arousal. It swirled about the royal chambers, a special kind of pheromonal perfume strong enough to block out the wafting breeze of a new day. "Three... two... o—"
Before he could finish, Peach had hastily shoved the letter into his hand. "H-here!" and before she could beg for him to continue, her eyes suddenly grew wide and a glistening bead of saliva dripped off her exposed tongue; her hips bucked, her back arched—"O-oh my Goooo—aaaaah!"—and a pitched cry of ecstasy echoed around the room as a powerful orgasm shook the princess to her very core.
"And there's a good girl. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Regarding his blonde-haired liege, who was laid out over the bed and going through a fit of convulsions, Toadsworth nodded as though that were a worthy end, and proceeded to read the letter for himself, his lips moving silently. After a few seconds, he promptly closed it and whapped it over the princess's shin. "Hey, wakey-wakey, Princess, did you read this invitation through?"
The response he received, namely the way Princess Peach lifted a feeble hand, gave it a weak wave, and let it flump back down, was expected but irritating nonetheless. Toadsworth called her 'Princess' out of respect for the position of power she resided in, but in his mind he referred to her more as 'the blonde bimbo'. Years of being kidnapped and subsequently rescued had changed the Princess in several ways, chief of which was her figure. Known far and wide as a rather statuesque Princess, none of the current artwork in circulation captured her change in proportions nowadays, namely the way she had thickened up: her breasts had gone up a few sizes, her thighs were jaw-droppingly thicker, it looked as though her hips were ready to bear healthy children on command, and her ass jiggled with every step and deliciously filled out whatever seat she settled in to.
And who was to blame for this wild change to their princess?
The one who seemed to make it a bi-monthly effort to kidnap her, the king of Koopas himself, Bowser McAin'tShit.
Maybe it was a fetish, or maybe he just didn't know what in the hell he was doing, but whenever Bowser successfully stole the princess away—and really, what were a group of two feet tall, mushroom-headed servants going to do besides stand aside and let it happen?—that overgrown lizard always took to pampering the princess. But no one could tell Mario different, oh no, that chubby idiot always feared the worse and would run off half-cocked with no sense of direction, which meant Toadsworth or one of his fellows would have to already be at the wrong castle to let Mario know he was at the wrong castle and send him on his way to the right one.
It was all rather tedious. And exhausting. Because it really only gave Bowser more time to coddle the Princess, namely by feeding her, doing her nails, outfitting her in dresses—she was less his captive and more a trophy for him to lavish attention on and worship. It didn't take long for things to spiral out of control to the point where Mario would heroically show up to rescue her only to find Peach using Bowser as a footstool while scores of Koopas claw-fed her and fanned her with giant tropical leaves.
Nowadays, getting kidnapped by Bowser was no longer a cause for Kingdom-wide panic and chaos—where Yoshi's ran headlong into walls and Goombas randomly self-destructed—no, they amounted to nothing more than a weekend getaway, barely worth a mention on the news. The Princess was in no real danger, quite the opposite, and to add insult to Bowser's already pitiful situation, she didn't waste an iota of a second jumping into Mario's arm when he came to rescue her.
All that coddling and food had not only thickened the Princess into a verifiable sex symbol, but she was also highly susceptible to sexual stimulation, almost as though getting thicker had made her more sensitive. But... she was still their princess, and no matter how bratty she acted, it was their duty to protect her.
To that end, Toadsworth shook the hand he had fingered her with, sending thick droplets of her love essence flickering to the floor, and cleared his throat. "Princess, while your nethers might be in a state of bliss, you won't be once they revoke your Smash ticket."
The Princess sat up bolt-right looking alarmed, one strap of her gown sliding south off her shoulder and revealing an altogether tantalizing amount of cleavage. Were Toadsworth a toad of lesser morals, he knew he most definitely would have taken advantage of the Princess in several unspeakable ways, yet he merely added protecting her from lecherous advances to his already staggeringly long list of objectives.
"What do you mean... revoke my ticket? How? They wouldn't do that!" she said indignantly, only to hunch in on herself a moment later and utter, "...would they?"
The display was adorable in more ways than one, the way this thick princess had a finger to her bottom lip looking chastised while the entire room smelled of her stimulated loins. There was little Toadsworth could do but sigh as he waved the letter before her.
"It says that they've already prepared a set move list for you," he told her, his gaze sliding south and settling on her bosom, on the way her gown continued to drift steadily lower and lower, to the point where a tempting bit of pink areola could be seen. "Each participant is given five attacks that they must learn and be able to perform effortlessly before the tournament begins, Princess."
The Princess nodded, her soft features squaring up with determination. "Okay, that sounds easy enough. I hadn't even gotten that far," she admitted, crossing her ankles with a sigh and resting her hands between her thighs. "Attacks, though... they're what I'll be using to fight the others with, right?"
"Correct, Princess."
"And what are those five moves?"
After taking a second to unfurl the letter again, Toadsworth scanned the invoice once more before immediately zoning back onto the Princess's chest. "They seem to be tailored specifically to you."
Still looking every bit the pleased matriarch that she was, Peach placed a hand over her mouth and let loose a controlled yawn, one that caused her barely concealed breast to jostle and Toadsworth's gaze intensified. "How so?"
"The moves are Toad, Peach Bomber, Peach Parasol, Vegetable, and Peach Blossom."
Hearing this only caused Peach to let loose an excited little giggle and she clapped her hands. "Oh, wonderful! With names like that, they've got to be moves I can easily do!"
Unfortunately, her words had fallen on death ears because it was at that moment that her gown had finally slipped, exposing her right breast and the perky pink nipple it had been desperately trying to hide—and with that came a swift collapse in self-control that saw Toadsworth spring forward with more bounce than Mario skipping off a Goomba. The moment his lips latched around her exposed nipple, Peach gasped, lips floundering, but whatever she was about to say melted away into a sensual groan when Toadsworth began sucking in earnest, his tongue lashing at the sensitive nub.
"O-oh fuck—fuuuuuuck..."
The sound of her staggered exhales only spurred Toadsworth on further, catching her other nipple between two fingers to knead and pinch at it over the fabric of her nightgown.
"You're too defenseless, Princess," Toadsworth uttered, licking roughly at her breast and squeezing the other. "How are you ever going to compete in that tournament when this is all it takes to brings you to a wet mess?"
Even if she wanted to, the Princess couldn't answer. She had fallen back over the bed once more, immobilized under her stewards masterful touch and only able to utter intelligible squeaks and gasps of what could have been. He could feel her heart racing, could feel her entire body beginning to seize up—
"There's one move in particular that you're going to need to practice," he told her, exhaling gently over the surface of her breast, bringing a fresh wave of shivers down her spine.
She tried to ask what move that might be, but the moment she made an attempt, Toadsworth pressed his mouth to hers, applying enough pressure to bring her submissive tongue forward where he proceeded to lick and suckle at it with verve.
"It's called the Peach Bomber," he whispered, enjoying the sight of his dear princess struggling to keep that little pink tongue of hers still so he could lavish it some more with his own. The pleasure was so intense he could see her eyes beginning to glisten, her thighs were rubbing together—the poor girl was at her wits end. "It involves throwing your big, fat ass at the opponent—"
"Gnf..."
"—yes, my delicious Princess," and Toadsworth gave her nipples an exceptionally hard pinch, downright slurping the saliva off her tongue in a two-pronged attack that sent the infamous Princess into a series of convulsions underneath him that caused the bed to tremble. He could hear her juices escaping, squirting out in jets against her soaked panties with such intensity that she screamed, that she bucked her hips, that her toes clenched until they cracked.
"Music to my ears, and a fine way to start the day for such a perverted Princess," noted Toadsworth, wiping his lips and hopping back down to the floor. The Princess didn't respond, possibly because she might have passed out if her twitching form was any indicator, but Toadsworth didn't require her at the moment. "Now, let's see..." Careful not to slip in the puddle of spilt love juices, he picked up the letter again and reread a specific section. "Ah, yes...Peach Bomber. We're going to need to build up your resistance to this one, it wouldn't do to use this maneuver only to cum all over your opponent. I'm fairly certain that would be grounds for termination."
"Haaaa... r-right..."
Oh, so she wasn't unconscious. Just severely dazed.
"I'm going to call Mario," Toadsworth announced, and he didn't miss the way the Princess's legs twitched. "Yes, he'll be your practice dummy, a service I'm sure he'll be all too happy to fulfill."
"Y-yay..."
"Good. Now, come on, get up... we gotta get a cleaner in here."
"Hell-a no."
Admittedly, that wasn't the response either Princess Peach or Toadsworth were expecting, and Mario could gather as much after one glance at their faces. Standing there amidst a small gathering of lesser toads, a couple of whom carried parasols for shading, the Princess looked subtly disheartened while Toadsworth dawned an expression like he couldn't figure out how denying him was an option.
"Maybe... you didn't hear the first time," Toadsworth went on, stepping out from beside the Princess and clearing his throat. "Mario, we would request that you help the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom gain a hand over her set of moves—"
"Oh, I heard you, and the answer's still hell no," Mario replied, scratching under his trademark red cap. It was beyond a little windy outside today and the three of them stood amongst the vast rolling planes that consisted of the castle's backyard. It was where Mario had been summoned and after hearing what they wanted, that it didn't revolve around rescuing the princess or saving the kingdom, his interest had dropped quicker than a booby-trapped Thwomp.
He pointed at the two of them, the woman he adored more than life itself and the short, stubby midget with the malformed head that answered to her.
"I love you, Princess, but this is a competition, ain't it? Which means we're all gonna be fighting for the title of Smash Champion. And if you don't get your moves down in time... well," and Mario paused, grinning and shifting his left shoulder in a very apathetic shrug, "that'll be one less contestant to worry about, won't it?"
For a long moment, neither party said anything. Only the gentle zephyrs rolling over the hills dared to make a sound, rustling the blades of grass, Mario's hat, and the hem of Peach's trademark pink dress. That was undeniably a very Mario-centric thing to say, because anyone who knew Mario knew how long of a competitive streak he possessed; it rivaled his heroism, his drive to be the best in a fair and just way, to stand triumphant due to his own merit and hardwork.
And then, quite suddenly, Princess Peach began walking toward the vertically challenged hero, stopping only once he had to incline his head at chest height to catch her eye. Another couple of seconds passed by way of stringent silence—until the Princess's lips split into a challenging smile.
"So what you're saying is... may the best player win," she surmised, placing a hand on one of her bodacious hips.
"Exactly," Mario responded, and there was a very familiar fire in his eyes, the glistening flames that liked to ignite whenever he was a few skips away from attempting a great feat. "You got a helluva lot thicker, Princess, but you didn't get weaker. Just cause you're my damsel and I'm your hero doesn't mean I'm gonna go easy on you. So you better not go easy on me, either."
Sometimes... maybe it's true than when you're so used to traveling down a certain path, you lose all sense of how detrimental it is for you... and maybe, all it takes is a little shove to get back on track. Like the one Mario had just inadvertently given the Princess, because she met his emblazoned stare with one of her own and they brushed forearms, both of them forming a tight fist.
"So... instead of being my test dummy," the Princess began, moving a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear, "how about you be my sparring partner?"
Now Toadsworth merely sighed and shook his head when Mario nodded with verve, "Now that, I can do," and sank back into a fighting stance, the corner of his smirk threatening to push his mustache into his nose. "At your service, my princess."
"Not at all how this was supposed to go," Toadsworth remarked to virtually no one but himself as Princess Peach plucked a parasol from one of the many toadlings in the surrounding area and slung it over her shoulder, "but perhaps... this is the best way for it to go."
The End